


Scented

by Shinocchi



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel), DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Domestic Fluff, Dry Orgasm, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot-Fill, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 11:55:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7102204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinocchi/pseuds/Shinocchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was something familiar and nostalgic about this incarnated scent he'd accustomed with Mink ever since he'd first come to know him. He'd been looking for the answers to it for a long time, but little did he know, the answer was right by his side from the very beginning, until when it forced itself upon him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scented

**Author's Note:**

> So I succumbed to yet another MinAo one-shot because this idea wouldn't leave my mind _(:3/L
> 
> The timeline for this was post-canon, not far into the future, right before Mink gave Aoba a makeover to his post-MinAo-GE appearance. I'm really glad to have written more MinAo and am looking forward to write more of them in the near future! :D
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated, as usual! <3

Pacifying, soothing, nice…? He’d had all the words carousing in his head ever since the first time he’d come across Mink’s very incarnated scent. But none of those had been able to perfectly summarize how he really felt about this very significant scent he could only find on him. It had a very cordial tang, one that Aoba could hardly forget once his senses attested to its existence. It gave him a surreal sense of hope; as if it was an assurance that told him that Mink was now right by his side, without him having to fear that he’d wake up one day and find him gone. Perhaps he’d gotten the scent on himself too, especially when he realized that he’d unintentionally bring his hair strands to his face, steeping himself in the pleasant scent of home before he shook his head, flustered at what he’d just done and rambled out of whatever space he was in to get himself a good breath of fresh air.

Moving in with Mink was more than just another change of physical space; it was also a change of mind-set, of adapting into a world that he was never familiar with, and of becoming _one_ with this world that he would now call his own. He sometimes wondered if this particular scent was just another nip of this very world – and if he was the only one who thought any differently of this whiff.

Moving in with Mink was not at all easy; it was as if he was being reborn and living in a world that consisted of Mink and everything he was unaccustomed to, which he thought was a good exchange, for Mink being acquainted to _his_ world before Aoba found himself intruding into Mink’s world instead.

Time was all he needed, after all, and all he wanted. Before he knew it, he would be grooved with everything of this world. He knew he would. He was sure of it.

 

* * *

 

“Morning,” he greeted reflexively upon seeing Mink in the living room, hair standing at all ends and eyes bleary with distinct sleepiness. Mink merely lifted a nonchalant gaze, stringed along by a low hum, an acknowledgement Aoba hadn’t expected more.

“Good morning, Aoba,” Rulacane flew towards Aoba, perching on his shoulder with his smoke pipe dangling on his beak. “Breakfast is ready.”

“Oh,” Aoba spilled an instinctive response. A two-second pause later, he whispered, peeking at Mink from the corner of his eyes. “Did Mink prepare them?”

“He did.” Rulacane, however, possessed no intention whatsoever of hiding his voice, as if he never noticed Aoba’s hint. “He woke up an hour earlier for this.”

The last of his statement was clearly an intentional add-on. Chuckling awkwardly, Aoba patted him on the head, then took careful stroll towards Mink and ultimately stood beside him.

A week after moving in, he’d still find the unnatural air between them; something he was determined to overcome.

“Have you eaten?” he asked, unconsciously running his fingers through his hair, wincing at the messy strands that was creating an unsightly view to his housemate.

Mink set his cup on the table, turning around just enough to catch Aoba in the eyes.

“Not yet,” he said. And that was about it.

Smiling, Aoba crouched, gripping Mink by the hand and pulled him out of his couch.

“Let’s eat together then.” He wouldn’t expect Mink to have any objections towards what he suggested, but he wanted to assume that Mink was waiting for him so that they could have their breakfast together.

They didn’t need too much of word exchange between them. Across time, Aoba had come to study Mink’s body language well enough to be able to understand him as a person. It sometimes gave him more questions on top of the questions he already had in his head but the constant trial and error process was undoubtedly a rewarding one, allowing Aoba to go through a crash course on Mink’s behaviour that’d helped him greatly in understanding Mink in a more effective way. He’d come to know that Mink had his own ways of portraying concern, one that wasn’t an abruptly upfront one, but it was raucous and concise nevertheless, the impact of it often swirled him into a whirlpool of overwhelmed emotions.

Because never in his life would he expect Mink to be capable of being _this_ concerned, and above all, it gave him a sense of relief, knowing that his impression towards Mink was right after all.

The scent of good baked breakfast was the first thing he smelled when he entered the kitchen. Hugging Ren in his arms, he squinted into the oven, gave Ren a knowing look before he heard the sound of chair dragging along the floor that he looked up, just to see Mink peering at him.

“Are they ready?” Aoba pointed at what seemed like two palm-sized puffs in the oven. He’d come across various food that he never knew the name of, the smell conquered all the questions he wanted to ask before they could make it out of his lips.

Mink crouched, checking on the puffs. While Aoba waited for an answer, Mink opened the oven, the scent stronger than before as he pushed a hand into it.

“Wait,” Aoba stopped him. Without further explanation, Aoba throttled away with Mink halting his hand in mid-air, leaving him confused, and coming back with a pair of mittens in his hands.

“You’ll burn yourself if you take it like that,” Aoba said. It sounded more like a lecture than anything else, his concern had Mink elevating an interested curve at the corners of his lips. He watched as Aoba put the mittens on for him, captivated by the way Aoba was working on it with such immense enthusiasm that he released a begrudging cough when Aoba looked up and stared at him with questions written all over his face.

“What is this?” Aoba asked when Mink broke their eye contact and returned to scrutinizing the food. But as soon as Mink brought the two puffs onto a tray and laid them on the table, he realized that the answer to his question had revealed themselves after all.

The two puffs smelled staunchly of cinnamon, with a hint of melded cheese and butter, overwhelming all of Aoba’s senses. He was familiar with the scent, but this felt somehow different from the one he was used to and it piqued his interest greatly.

“Careful, it’s hot.” Mink had called out to him when he was about to stretch a hand towards the puff. Was there a specific way to eat this? he wondered. Feeling unversed, he withdrew his hand and sat on the chair, just in time for Mink to push a small plate alongside a fork towards his direction.

“Erm, how do we eat this?” Aoba asked. His tummy was grumbling, he kept having to swallow down his throat to contain his hunger, yet Mink seemed so perfectly calm, sitting right opposite him and eyeing him with a look that spelled of indifference.

And, instead of saying anything, he lifted his own fork, pushing the plate containing both the puffs towards Aoba’s direction and pushed one of the puffs into Aoba’s plate.

“Use the fork,” was all he said before he closed his eyes, chanted his prayers and started digging into his own food.

At this point in time, all Aoba could feel was mild bewilderment that had heat raising to the tips of his ears. Lowering his head, he quickly picked up his fork, muttered the same prayer as what Mink had done and stabbed one prudent fork into the puff. It was soft, so fine-looking, and the moment Aoba nudged his fork into it, fresh, smooth cream spurted out of it, catching him off guard.

He didn’t want any drop of the food to go to waste so he scooped some of the cream with his fork in pronto, bringing it to his mouth and drinking it down with one full gulp.

“Wow, this is… so good,” he said, fork hanging awkwardly by his lips. The cream melted on his tongue, the aroma of it spreading through his entire mouth, leaving him craving for more before he cut the puff into small pieces and brought one of them into his mouth.

He’d never eaten any puffs in his entire life but he was certain that this would be the best tasting puff he’d ever eat.

Now one puff for this breakfast felt insufficient.

Mink had finished his own puff, leaving him with nothing to do but to observe Aoba. The way Aoba gobbled down his food in such a lascivious way never failed to send a pang of warmth right at his chest. Aoba being obsessed with food was nothing new to him, but to witness the sight with his very own eyes was a whole different story altogether. The more he stared, the higher the curve on his lips went, only turned just a tad down when he noticed the spatter of cream on Aoba’s hair.

Standing up, he walked towards the cabinet while Aoba finished the last drip of the cream on his plate, and coming back with a napkin in his hand.

“You’ve got cream here,” he said, surprising Aoba when he wiped the napkin gently against the strands of Aoba’s hair.

“Ah,” Aoba muttered. It was just a tiny smear and it could be cleaned soon without too much of a hassle. But having Mink to do something like this for him was totally out of his expectation so, for a long time, all he could do was sitting rooted on his chair, every passing second felt like an eternity to him.

“Maybe I could tie my hair up sometimes,” he said, attempting to break the silence.

“Does it give you a lot of inconvenience?” Mink asked instead, using the same napkin to clean the table with Aoba helping him out.

“No, not really,” Aoba said. “Just thinking of trying it out. Since I’m going to explore more of this place too, might as well find a style that’s easier to manage.”

The last of his sentence was totally not aforethought. But it got Mink thinking, even though it wasn’t written on his face.

 

It was always like this – they’d wake up, greet each other, have breakfast together, and Mink would then head off to work while Aoba contemplated on what to do for the rest of the day. Today, though, he’d had his mind made up the previous night as he fumbled around the house, putting stuff into places and attempting to remember where things were placed in this very space. When he was residing in Midorijima, there were always sounds around him – the sound of someone shouting outside his window, the sound of chaotic arguments in a distance away, and sometimes, he’d even hear sounds from his neighbour, which he had no clue whatsoever of what was happening next door. He was never troubled by these sounds, never thought of them as unnecessary noises either; in fact, it was what made Midorijima as Midorijima and it’d become a well-defined identification of this town that he’d come to love very much. Here, though, he was constantly surrounded by sounds of birds chirping, of wind breezing through the house, and of solitude that was a contrast to how he was used to. The closest neighbour to them was located a few kilometres away, no one here used cars or any other transportation tools as with how it was in Midorijima. And when night fell, there were no lights in their perimeter, the darkness radiating from the woods gave him an impression as if it was going to swallow them alive, reminding him ghastly of those quiet nights he’d spend alone in his house when he was young. Even so, he didn’t dislike this new environment either; in fact, he found it peaceful, and definitely a strident innuendo of tranquillity that he thought was the splendid surrounding Mink could seek for.

He felt as if this was the first time in his entire life that he’d finally come to understand how ‘quiet’ felt like.

He was checking out the few bottles of essence on the shelf when his Coil started ringing, startling him. He paced towards the source of the sound in a flash, eyes brightening when he saw the name on the screen.

It should be night time over in Japan now, right?

Without further delay, he picked up the call, his chest mingled with distinct excitement and apprehension.

“Granny?” he spoke. There was a slight drone from over the other side of the call but soon, the noise vanished, replaced instead by a voice he was more than familiar with.

“Aoba?” Tae sounded fine, lifting the heavy weight off Aoba’s chest before he grinned and responded.

“Hey, how are you?”

They’d been exchanging calls ever since Aoba moved over to live with Mink. Every once a while, Aoba would call home if he wanted to ask Tae’s opinions for anything at all – be it a new recipe or simply a new way of living. Tae would call him too, but the initiative usually came from Aoba and hence when Tae was to call him out of the blue like this, he couldn’t help but feel edgy.

“I’m good, just wanted to check on you.”

Aoba beamed at the screen. They weren’t sharing any video calls today but Tae’s voice had, as usual, brightened his mood up like a piece of cake. He sat on the couch, one hand stroking Ren’s fur on his lap and the other adjusting the position of his Coil so that he could speak better.

“Is everything okay back home?” he asked, just in case.

“Everything’s fine, Clear’s been a good help.”

Ah, Clear. He’d heard from Tae about how Clear had come to help out in Heibon since his departure. It seemed that he had been creating quite a commotion from doing so, being the masked staff in the shop when he first started, often drawing customers to the shop just to have a good glance at him. He would also drop by the Seragaki household every so often, sometimes joining Tae for tea and sometimes simply just to help out around the house.

“That’s good to hear,” Aoba said, looking around the house while he spoke; the surrounding was quiet, the only sound being the buzz from his Coil. Various conversation topics flashed past his head when he set his eyes on the bottles of essence he’d been staring at before he was interrupted by the call. “Say, Granny, do you know how to make cinnamon puffs?”

“Cinnamon puffs?” Tae’s voice rang steadily from across the call. She paused for a sparse moment, where Aoba could hear her strumming from the other side. “Not quite sure about that, I could look up some recipes for you.”

“Ah, if it’s not too much of a trouble,” Aoba said apologetically.

“Just wait for minute,” Tae dismissed him, a response that had Aoba eliciting a bitter smile. “Do you have the ingredients you need in the house?”

“What kind of ingredients?”

Tae seemed to have found what Aoba needed so, for the next hour, they spent time talking about the ingredients, ways to make the puffs, and by the time Aoba hung the call, the sun was already high in the sky, urging him to pick himself up and strode out of the house and towards the town to get things prepared.

There was just… something with the scent that had been lingering on his mind for the entire time now. He remembered it from a faraway memory, possibly when he first encountered Mink, and then, it just sort of ingrained within him for the rest of the time. Even after he’d come to recognize various of other scents in the house that he was never used to, he still found himself unbelievably attracted to this particular scent, as if it was a personification of Mink himself.

It was a kind of feeling that was somewhat nostalgic to him and it was also something he couldn’t quite explain himself. Yet, he was also another one of the many mysteries surrounding his relationship with Mink that he sought to find the answer for.

He wasn’t sure if he could pull it off, but when he set the ingredients on the table, staring at the bottle of essences he’d lined up alongside the counter, he knew that this would serve as yet another memory he’d come to cherish for a long time.

“Okay, let’s get this started.” Rolling up his sleeve, he unpacked the load of stuff, with Ren being the helpful assistance as always, hologram screen up with lines of instruction written on it.

“Ah.” He was about to bend down to mix the flour when the strands of his hair got caught in it, dabbing white stains at the tips. “Mink was right, after all,” he smiled bitterly. After managing to find a hair band in one corner of the house, he tied his hair up into a high ponytail, taking a deep breath and started working on the food again, this time, with unfaltering attention.

 

It was already in the late evening when Mink walked his usual path back home. Fiery red orb of light slowly sank beneath the horizon, threads of lights lingered in the sky, interweaving with rolling clouds, warm sensation swarmed into the room when he opened the door to his cabin, splashing benign warmth onto Aoba’s working body by the kitchen counter.

“Ah, you’re back,” he exclaimed when he heard the sound of closing door. Hastily wiping his hand on the apron he was wearing, he paced towards Mink, beaming as he said, “Welcome home.”

“I’m back,” Mink responded in a low tone. He caught sight of the stain of flour on Aoba’s cheek, then looking over to the kitchen, attempting to decipher what was happening in his house.

“I’m preparing something,” Aoba admitted, noticing the question on Mink’s face. Assuming that Mink was going to check out what _exactly_ was happening, he hitched a breath when he felt Mink’s hand on his hair instead, fingers running through the unkempt strands before they twirled the ends of them.

“I got them out of the way,” Aoba grinned again, answering a question he assumed of Mink. Mink, however, said nothing. Removing his hand from Aoba’s hair, he walked past him, right to the source of the pleasant smell that had been attacking his nose since he opened the door and stood by the oven.

“Did you make this?” he asked, staring into the oven, the sight of it a perfect replication of what happened in the morning.

“Yeah, I thought of trying out,” Aoba said. He was almost done anyway, now all that he needed to do was wait for the baking to be done and he could then officially lay his masterpiece on the table. The sight of it didn’t look exactly the same as how Mink’s puffs looked like but the smell was definitely there, pouncing a great amount of confidence right into Aoba’s chest. He felt his nerves pumping with a rush of combined restlessness and proudness when Mink stared at the food. So, wanting to distract himself, he pulled the band off his hair, setting his hair free then approaching Mink, who had straightened himself up to look at him.

“Smells good,” Mink complimented, drawing a bigger grin on Aoba’s face.

“You think so?” Aoba said, his heart leaping a beat when Mink nodded. “I’m glad. But the smell was contributed by the essence, though. I didn’t make it from scratch.”

“Essence?” Mink perked a barely visible eyebrow, eyeing Aoba with discernible confusion.

“Yeah, the ones in your cabinet,” Aoba answered, pointing at the bottles of essence on the counter when Mink’s eyes brightened.

“You… used those?” he asked carefully, eyes still anchored on the half-used bottles of liquid.

“Uh huh,” Aoba said. As if attempting to elaborate his point better, he marched towards the bottles, picked one that smelled stoutly of cinnamon and waved it right in front of Mink’s eyes. “The smell is really pleasant. Did you make the puffs this morning with these too?”

Mink was about to say something but the ear-splitting ringing of the oven, a signal of ready food, interrupted him as Aoba throttled back to the oven, the nice scent when Aoba opened the lid rattling any possible reservations he could’ve had.

“This is really good…” Aoba mumbled “Ah, I need—“

Before he could finish what he intended to say, Mink had pushed a pair of mittens into his hands.

“Thank you!” he smiled. Mink helped him with the plate as well. The puffs were warm in his hands, the outlook of them delightful, lifting a bigger grin on Aoba’s face when he loaded the plate of puffs onto the table.

“Okay, now that this is done, I’ll prepare din—“

“This is fine,” Mink said, sitting on the table with eyes still fixed penetratingly at the two golden-coloured puffs on the table.

“Eh? Are you fine with these alone? It’s the same food as we had in the morning?” Aoba asked, a repeat of what Mink had just said.

Mink nodded. “You?”

“I’m fine,” Aoba responded a bit too nimbly. He’d been so engrossed with the whole food-making process that he barely noticed how hungry he was; his biggest desire was to try out this very food he’d make from scratch. Well, except for the essence. It can’t be helped. He didn’t have enough time to learn how to make it, after all. Maybe next time.

“Have you tried it yourself while you’re making this?” Mink asked, fork laid by the plate, his fingers intertwined and supporting his chin.

“Not yet,” Aoba said. Taking his apron off, he settled Ren on the empty chair beside him and waved at Rulacane, who’d just settled himself on Mink’s shoulder. “I wanted to try it with you.”

His nerves were pushed into a nervous train wreck. Mink had reminded him about something he’d never considered before – that he’d never tried this first before he served it for Mink. Hesitance bubbled within him – would it be better if he’d tried it beforehand? Would Mink mind? But there was no hint of displeasure on Mink’s face. What he saw instead, was a feature that portrayed sturdily of casualness that had him swallowing down his throat multiple times.

But Mink said nothing after that. Merely standing up, he did what he did in the morning, pushing the plate towards Aoba’s direction and unloaded one of the puffs onto his plate, then bringing one for himself.

“Thank you for making this,” he said over the table, while millions of thoughts ran through Aoba’s head, devil whispers being a loud exasperation getting in the way of his sensible thoughts.

“It’s no problem,” Aoba said, the smile he witnessed on Mink’s face had him releasing a soft sigh of relief.

“What made you think of doing this?” Mink asked. He didn’t sound at all bothered; if any, he sounded like he was genuinely curious about Aoba’s intention, which did the job of lifting Aoba’s spirit as he put his fork down again, just so he could look Mink in the eyes.

“You know, there’s this particular scent that I’ve been smelling ever since I first knew you. It was hard to tell what it exactly was at first, but now, I finally know what it is.” He pointed at the cinnamon puff, eyes dazed out for a few seconds, seemingly reminiscing on something before he started again. “I don’t know what it implies to you but for someone like you to carry this sort of smell… I thought it must mean something to you, maybe it reminds you of home, of a memory, I don’t know…” he trailed off, starting to lose track of his train of thoughts. “But it must mean something important to you. So I thought… maybe I’d like to try making something that could make you feel better, even though I might not be doing it as well as you did,” he ended with an awkward chuckle.

There were a few moments of stretched silence between them after Aoba was done with his words, both of them allowing what Aoba had just said to sink into their system. Then, Mink let out a profound sigh, using his fork to cut the puff into half. Soft cream flowed out of it, creating a pool of thick flavour on the plate and smearing the tips of his fork with yellowish substance. All Aoba did was stare the whole time he was doing it, completely forgotten about his own food, until Mink looked up at him.

“Try it out for yourself.” The smile Aoba didn’t expect of him causing Aoba’s heart to skip a beat. He clumsily picked his fork up again, imitating Mink to cut the puff into half then brought one half of it into his mouth.

“How is it?” Mink asked, his puff left stranded on the plate.

“It’s—“ Aoba struggled to talk, mouth too full to make a sound. Swallowing, he pulled a perky grin accompanying his spirited response. “It’s not as bad as I thought it’d be.”

“I see,” Mink closed his eyes, prodding on the puff. He seemed like he was deep in his own thoughts and Aoba wasn’t sure if it was his place to be asking what was in his mind.

“Is something wrong?” he asked at long last. “Ah, it’s okay if you don’t feel like eating,” he quickly said without waiting for an answer. “I mean, I’m only making it because—“

“I’ll eat anything you make,” Mink interrupted. “But you would need to take responsibility of the consequences later.”

W-well, the food isn’t _that_ bad, Aoba thought with a pout. But he’d take responsibility if they were to end up in the loo later, sure.

The only thing was – it wasn’t the case at all, and definitely not what Mink implied.

 

Mink had told him that the puff was great, that the essence was amazing and that he’d gotten the texture on point, which meant that he shouldn’t have anything to worry about after that. But for some reason, Mink’s gaze on him felt just a tad peculiar when he cleaned the table, retreated to the shower and ultimately settling himself by Mink’s side when they were both cleaned up for their usual bonding session; Mink with a book and a cup of coffee, Aoba with Ren in his arms, drowsy and dozing off. He leaned his head against Mink’s arm, taking in the scent of cinnamon he was so enchanted with and allowing himself to be mesmerized in the Euphemia of silent company.

When Mink woke him up after what seemed like an hour, he rubbed his eyes, yawned and bid a quick farewell, which the other patted him on the head as both of them retreated into their own room.

So there goes a day, he thought as he cuddled under the comfortable warmth of his blanket. Simple, but fruitful. Tomorrow, he could probably wake up earlier than Mink instead so that he could prepare breakfast for them this time. Then after that, he could probably head out to the market, just to get himself familiar with the place and also to get to know more people in town, then—

\--his thought process was disrupted significantly by a spasmodic throng of warmth, one that was specifically spurred from down south.

He sat up with a start, sweat beading on his forehead as he pulled the blanket away. It wasn’t _this_ warm when he slipped into bed just minutes ago. Did the weather just turn bad? He peeked out of the window, noticing no visible change of the atmosphere and went back to staring at his… crotch.

From the shadowy vision in the dark, he could vaguely see the outline of his dick, _feel_ it even, standing and half-hard and it was straining under his boxer to the extent of suffocation. He didn’t know where this sudden arousal came from. What was the trigger? While he rubbed a vigilant palm against his dick from over his pants, question after question flooded his head as he tried to remember what had happened before that had caused this. He could probably make a quick release, his thoughts running wild. Maybe it was because of the fact that he hadn’t been having any sexual intercourse for a long time that could be the trigger of this, and maybe that was why his body was subconsciously craving for it.

This is all a physiological reaction, he attempted to convince himself. He just need to… get rid of it.

With that thought, he stood up, his knees almost giving him away as he dragged his way towards the door. The bathroom was his destination; if Mink happened to wake up at this hour, he could simply tell him that he was having a bad stomach, that the puff was the cause of it. He laughed at his own joke. Maybe Mink had cursed him after all, saying things about ‘consequences’ and stuff – now he _really_ need to face the ‘consequence’.

The corridor was dark and quiet when he made his way out of the room, the only source of light being the one pouring out from his own room. He took a hasty glance around the place, tiptoeing his way along the wall with one hand obscuring his dick and was about to open the door to the bathroom when he heard movements from behind him.

“Ah,” he leaked a weird warble. He already knew who it was, but he didn’t expect him to be awake. Maybe he’d cursed himself this time. But he had everything ready. So, letting out an unnaturally loud cough, he turned around, coming face-to-face with Mink with an awkward smile.

“Ah… so, I have a bad stomach and you’re right after all, maybe the puff wasn’t really, well, well-cooked, so I, erm…” he stuttered at the end of the words, cursing himself inwardly. The mission was a failure. All Mink did was stare at him, emotions absence in his eyes before he heard a sigh from the other man.

“Come here,” Mink said, without acknowledging if he’d heard what Aoba was telling him. Assuming that Mink was falling for his excuse and was perhaps going to give him some sort of medication for his tummy, he followed him, heading towards his room and sat on the bed, noticing that his room was only dimly lighted.

“I’m fine,” Aoba said when Mink closed the door behind him. “I think a good night rest would cure it.”

He had no idea whatsoever was happening to him but he didn’t want Mink to worry either. It could _really_ be just an upset stomach for all he knew, or perhaps the ingredients he used for the puff earlier didn’t work very well with his body. While Mink scrutinized him with narrowed eyes, he had his hands on his crotch, hiding the view, heart thumped loudly in his ears when Mink walked towards him and sat right beside him, then placing his hand on top of his.

“Ah.” The moan was definitely unintentional. Noticing that, Aoba was about to hide his mouth but Mink’s hand was on his and he couldn’t move an inch from the position they were in now so all he could do was staring unwaveringly as Mink inched closer.

And closer.

“Do you think you can endure _this_ for the rest of the night?”

The slight grip had Aoba breathing open-mouthed, his eyes closed on reflex as goose-bumps started forming on his skin. He didn’t remember himself being _this_ sensitive and that transitory yet suggestive gesture had his mind flicker in a piece of white before he opened his eyes, trying to focus on Mink and trying not to lose himself from just a mere grasp.

“I’m—“

“The essence you used,” Mink must have noticed his condition. His hand snaking towards Aoba’s back, giving him feather-light touches along his waist, feeling the small shivers they had elicited from Aoba. “contains Maca.” He seemed to be choosing his words very specifically, very carefully, but all Aoba could hear was words he had no knowledge of, and all he could feel was Mink’s hot breath against his neck, the scent of cinnamon stronger than ever as he gritted his teeth, his conscious at the brink of dropping off the cliff. “It’s a natural aphrodisiac we use here to boost—“ He felt Mink’s eyes wander to his crotch, saw the corners of Mink’s lips curved into a small smirk. “—desire.”

“Why…” he breathed, stuttering between pants, sweat formed on his forehead, all over his back, and his was sure that if he was to remove his hand from his crotch, it’d present a visual stimulation even he himself would be mortified at. “…do you… have this kind of thing… in your house…?”

It was a genuine curiosity, but it was also an effort of his to maintain clarity in his head. He could feel himself surrendering to whatever that was provoking him from the inside with every passing second, his body sensitive beyond control. Every one of Mink’s action and the realization of him being _so close_ to him did nothing but constantly pushing him off his limits.

“It was used in small portions to boost energy level,” Mink explained, even though the impatience in his tone was too clear for Aoba to miss. “But just small portions.” And Aoba was sure that the last of his sentence was repeated for him to hear.

He swallowed down his throat. Everything made sense now. He dug his own grave. And now, he was waiting for Mink to give him that push that would bury him deep in this very own trap he set for himself.

“I… didn’t know,” he admitted, without knowing what else to say. What done was done and there was absolutely nothing else he could do to save himself out of this situation, his thought clouded with the sole intention of wanting for release, wanting to be touched, to be savoured, to be—

“Aoba.” He jumped at the call of his name, the golden-coloured gaze he met when he looked up pulled an instinctive moan out of him. He could see his own reflection in Mink’s eyes, but that wasn’t all – he could also see the murk lust from beneath his irises, the _desire_ buried deep within, barely visible, as if it was suppressing itself, as if it was… _afraid_ of something.

His heartbeats were pumping in an insane speed. It was hot, _scorching_ , and he was sure that he’d be getting a heatstroke soon if he didn’t do _something_ about this situation. Mink’s laboured breath being the final straw of his restrained lust, he struggled his hands off Mink’s, slinging them over Mink’s neck and lurched forward to kiss him, starting slowly then deeply.

Mink was equally, if not warmer than Aoba. The sound of wetness that was them exchanging passion alongside the sound of cloth rubbing against cloth filled the once-quiet air. He sucked on Mink’s tongue, licking on wherever he could reach and moaning into Mink’s mouth when he felt Mink’s hand touching _directly_ on his dick, the thick material of his jeans being the only obstacle preventing him from touching him further.

He felt extremely sultry, _hot_ , but also very much needy all at the same time. Multiple emotions overwhelmed him, he couldn’t think of anything else but the yearning to feel Mink, not only through the way he was doing it now but he _needed_ to feel his skin on him, regardless of how he would do it – rough or not. With that thought in mind, he separated the kiss, staring at Mink with misty eyes, cheeks flustered with tears formed at the corner of his eyes, and having Mink to peel him off his clothing in the most sensual way he’d ever done with him.

Every motion of Mink felt too slow now; an irony of its own. He’d come to notice how Mink tended to be exceptionally gentle and careful with him ever since their very first lovemaking. But now, none of these considerations were necessary. All he wanted was Mink to touch him on the skin, to feel that rough sensation that was Mink’s skin on his very own body, to have those pair of hands exploring his body, igniting a more intense fire within him. It didn’t even matter if those very hands burned him, marked him, anything.

He only needed _Mink_ , and he needed him _now_.

“Mink, I…” he started, voice stuck in his throat. Words were hard for him, even more so when his head was fogged with immense heat. He wanted to tell Mink exactly how much he needed him at this moment but the remaining of his sanity was still getting into his way and all he could manage were stutters that turned into eventual moans when Mink scrapped him off his pants and leaving him to present himself on the bed like a sacrifice.

He didn’t even need to see his own dick to know what a sight it was making. It was throbbing, _needy_ , precum beading on the tip of it, droplets of it leaving thin trails of wetness along his shaft. When Mink brought a hand to trace a finger along his foreskin, he let out a gasp, back arching and he almost came when a finger flicked around his slit, yet not directly touching it.

He was certain that he would lose himself soon, the final thread of sanity hanging right at the edge of his conscious. Yet, he tried his best to keep his eyes opened, just so he could make out Mink’s beautiful features, now becoming all the more seductive under the dimmed light in the room. Every one of his nerves were on fire. He tried to say something but all that came out from his mouth were low whispers that made no sense whatsoever, until Mink leaned towards him and pecked him softly on the lips that he closed his eyes, completely succumbing his senses to feel Mink.

He needed no aphrodisiac. The very fact that Mink was treating him with such gentle care, in such a way that looked as if he was _worshipping_ Aoba was an aphrodisiac of its own. He’d never wished for anything more from Mink, as long as he could stay by his side and accompany him throughout the remaining of his life journey. But now, at this very second, Mink belonged to _him_ and he could feel it so loud and clear, his overly sensitive senses tingling with mild ecstasy simply from having Mink caressing him in such a tender way.

“I really need to keep a better eye on you from now on,” Mink’s gravelly voice vibrated in his ears, sending a weird sense of electric shock down south and accumulating on his dick. “Just so you won’t travel to a place where I can’t find you.”

He must have meant situations he couldn’t control; at least that was what Aoba’s faltering mind could make out now.

Aoba, however, released a weak chuckle. Gripping Mink’s hand, he lifted it to his chest, placing it at where his heart was located.

“Can you feel it?” he asked, words heaty. “How fast… it’s beating?”

Mink’s hand was warm on his chest, every slight movement intensifying more need on every inch of his skin.

“This is how much I need you.” He didn’t even know what he was talking anymore, his desire totally overpowering his speech. All that he was doing was mere throwing out of words directly from his brain. “There’s no way… I could allow myself to leave you… Can you…” He paused to take a deep breath, regulating the suffocation from beneath his chest. “…not leave me too?”

There were different ways to ask for Mink; he knew it. But whatever he’d just said suggested nothing upfront of that matter and he regretted the moment he spilled them out. They were hints of insecurity and that was the last thing he wanted Mink to hear. Yet, when Mink leaned in and kissed him on the forehead, he realized that he’d gotten his message loud and clear after all.

_I want you_. _I need you. Please._

That was all he wanted to say. His body said so, his mind said so, every part of his conscious emotion said so.

And that was what Mink heard too.

The next thing he knew, Mink had taken every inch of clothing off his body, towering over him as he moved his hand on Aoba’s chest to his nipple. One simple flick was all it took for Aoba to shiver, and one simple lick on the tip was all Aoba needed for him to come, semen splattered all over his abdomen with Mink still having his mouth on his sensitive bud. His body was overstimulated, he saw stars from beneath his closed eyes but yet, his dick was still hard and alive and provocative and he had no idea how much of an effect a mere puff could draw out of him up to this extent.

He cried out loud when Mink returned his hand to his dick, rubbing it in his palm as he licked a wet trail along Aoba’s neck. He could feel multiple stimulations all over his body – two fingers twirling the sensitive bud of his nipple, wet, hot sensation on the sensitive spot on his neck, and the rough sensation of Mink’s skin against his length, rubbing it up and down, up and down and he was at the verge of coming again when Mink stopped, squeezing him on the balls and denying his orgasm.

“You would fall asleep if you come again,” Mink mumbled against his neck. Lifting himself up, he moved away, just slightly, and fumbling in the drawer of his bedside table, bringing over a small bottle of cream which the scent Aoba was familiar with.

“Ah, this…” he said, eyeing the bottle with dazed gaze.

“Can you stop yourself from coming?” Mink asked, scooping two fingers full of cream and inching them closer towards Aoba’s hole.

Aoba nodded. One more trigger was all it took to help him achieve climax but yet, he reached down and grasp onto his own dick, stopping himself from coming when Mink pushed his fingers in, cold sensation smearing his insides and immediately melting into the warmth. When Mink started thrusting, he shrieked, one hand gripping on Mink’s wrist, nails digging into his skin that was sure to leave scar, all the while feeling his orgasm at the tip of his dick.

Finally, when Mink pulled his fingers out, his body was released off the tension, hands slumping powerlessly on both sides of his body as he breathed heavily, feeling as if he’d just come for the third time that night.

He didn’t want this to end, not yet. Once he caught his breath, he raised the back of his knees with his hands, stretching his legs and presenting his all-ready hole at Mink, his body language itself a powerful seduction of its own as he smirked in glee witnessing how Mink’s dick twitched in response.

“Mink…” he called out, fingers trembling on his legs. “Please.”

And he was _sure_ that he would never be so upfront if it wasn’t for the effect of the aphrodisiac.

Mink didn’t need to be told twice, though. With his hands on Aoba’s thighs, he positioned himself, the extreme heat of his dick pressing against Aoba’s hole had Aoba’s muscles contract with great anticipation. The moment he thrust into him, hitting him deep in the hilt with one push, Aoba felt shocks running through the entire of his body, causing him to come the second time that night as bubbled moans spilled from his lips.

“Please…” he muttered, feeing the hot mass spreading him from the inside. “Don’t… stop…”

He was _definitely_ overstimulated at this point. He felt as if there was no end for his lust; the more he was showered in it, the more he yearned for it. It was a dangerous thought, but Mink seemed to have a synchronized thought process as him as he let out a low grunt and started pushing himself in and out, in and out of Aoba; his action merciless and spelled of nothing but raw desire.

“Ah! Mink, just—yes.” He was no longer capable of words, he’d surrendered completely to the need for physical connection and having Mink connected to him was the best satisfaction he could ask for. The faster he was to thrust, the stronger he felt the stimulation from within, and soon after, his dick sprung back to life again, leaking precum from the tip and dripping onto the pool of semen left cooling on his torso.

There was something with Mink’s action that told him that Mink wasn’t very much himself tonight as well – that beastlike gaze that looked as if he was about to devour Aoba alive, and that wild motions that felt as if he wanted to rub Aoba raw from the inside. If Aoba was aroused, Mink was definitely equally so. And when their gaze met, Aoba felt his heart skip a beat when he located the hidden gentleness beneath the fiery lust, pushing him into a sense of realization that his dazed mind couldn’t have deciphered.

_Both_ of them ate the puff – which could only mean that he wasn’t the only one being tremendously aroused tonight.

“Aoba,” Mink’s gravelly voice rang by his ear again. “You are the one with a very nice scent.” He couldn’t say a word, but he could lift a smile, meeting Mink’s very own one and feeling a deep kiss on his lips, drowning him in ecstasy that he never knew he needed. He loved the scent Mink was indulging him now, he loved _Mink_. _Everything_ of Mink.

And when Mink came inside of him, he could feel the tremor vibrating all over his body, felt his own dick shuddered and trembled, but there was no cum, and that itself told him how spent he already was on that night itself.

All thanks to two cinnamon puffs.

 

* * *

 

 

He told himself countless times that it was fine allowing himself to stay in bed for a few days after being overwhelmed by such a vigorous activity on that night. But whenever he was to see Mink walking into the room with clean towel and a pail of water, remorse filled his inside instantly, with flashbacks of the night’s activities flashing past his head without his consent and causing heat to rise up to the tips of his ear.

Ren had told him that Mink had taken a few days off work to look after him upon realizing that he’d landed himself a bad fever the day after their lustful lovemaking. He had no one else to blame but himself. He should’ve asked Mink about the ingredients in his house first before using them but yet, Mink said no reprimands, not even a single glare, which only made Aoba feel worse.

“I’m fine,” he said, voice hoarse, when Mink reappeared in the room with clean towel once again. “I can take care of myself now. Besides, Ren is with me. You can go to work.”

This time, though, he earned the glare he was expecting as Mink settled the pail of water and the clean towel on the bedside table without a word. Anticipating words of lectures, he stared instead as Mink reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a few bunches of ornaments. They were all delicately done, small beads of it threading against each other, a few graceful-looking feathers hung from the tip of it. He didn’t know what this was all about. Was Mink intending to show him his new piece of work?

“This is… very nice,” he complimented, assuming it to be so.

“Do you like it?” Mink smiled; Aoba’s words seemed to have done its job.

“Me? Of course,” Aoba said without hesitance. “I always love everything you make.”

Without warning, Mink stretched a hand, twirling Aoba’s strands of hair then lifting one of the ornament pieces and pressing it against his hair, just right beside Aoba’s ear.

“Mink?” Aoba asked, surprised and curious.

“I made these for you,” Mink said, acknowledging the question on Aoba’s face. “You mentioned that it might be inconvenient for you to work with your hair. I thought this would look good on you.”

“H-huh…?” It took Aoba a while but when the reality hit him, he gaped, staring at the handful of ornaments in Mink’s hand, then back at Mink again.

“Do you want me to put it on for you?” Mink asked.

“I…” What was he about to say again? “S-sure, sure!” he exclaimed, with completely no idea of how to handle the surge of emotions now flooding his chest. “Thank you!”

If he’d felt Mink’s motions as being rough on the night they made love, his touches when he braided his hair, then putting on the ornaments for him was contrastingly gentle. He couldn’t contain his smile, wearing it at all times while he watched Mink work.

The scent of cinnamon was always present when Mink was in close proximity, and he could smell it again now, when Mink was so close to him, treating him with such absolute care that he almost thought how he acted towards him when they first met was merely an illusion.

What was this feeling again? he thought. Pacifying? Soothing? …Nice?

He couldn’t find the right word to describe this emotion in his chest. But when Mink was done with his hair, caressing the strands with a gentle smile on his face, he realized that he’d known the word from the very beginning after all–

\-- _safe_. That was what it was. The scent made him feel _safe_. And with how Mink was treating him now, there was no other word he could use to describe this very feeling – now that he had a pair of arms and a good heart looking after him, walking with him to the end of his life, like how Mink had promised him.

 


End file.
